Tactical Analysis in Timber
by Politelycynical
Summary: ONESHOT: Quistis has never read a term paper quite like this one. Seifer/Quistis. CAUTION: Mature content ahead.


Tactical Analysis in Timber

By: politelycynical

* * *

The classroom was dark. A single lamp was glowing dully at the instructor's desk. A pen scratched against paper monotonously. Red ink glided across the page.

She rubbed her neck tiredly and sat her glasses on the desk. There wasn't enough coffee in the world to handle this workload. Her first year of teaching had been challenging to say the least. Her authority was undermined constantly by cadets that felt her promotion was pre-mature, and the seniority-weighted system of delving out responsibilities meant that as the most junior faculty member, she always drew the short end of the straw.

 _It is advised while fighting a grenade-type monster that cadets cast their highest level ice-based magic._

How completely obvious. If only she had known when she was a cadet what sub-par papers her peers were handing it, maybe she could have saved herself a few all-nighters in the library. It was almost painful to read the garbage that ended up in her inbox.

She swiped her pen across the paper, leaving an elegant and detailed scar on the page. - _10 pts Tactical Analysis III students are expected to show more than a base knowledge of elemental weakness._

She sighed as she got to the last page in her stack. Just one more, and she could go to bed. With luck, she could eat something sustainable, rush through her meticulous skin care routine, and be in bed by midnight. That would give her six hours of sleep before her morning run with senior cadet Xu.

She glared at the handwritten essay. Who the hell was too lazy to type up their paper?

" _Tactical Analysis By: Yours Truly"_ was scrawled across a page of college ruled notebook paper. Although her student hadn't signed his name, she immediately recognized Seifer's handwriting.

 _I've wondered from time to time in my seat in the back if you know what you're doing to me, Quistis._

Her sleepy eyes snapped open to attention as she pulled the paper closer. Well—This was different.

 _The moron in front of me – Cadet Dincht—asks another question about junctioning (Honestly, how has he not blown himself up yet?) and you lean beside him and examine his paper. Your skirt brushes a little higher against the back of your creamy thighs as you explain to him why Cure shouldn't be used on STAT-ATK against an Iguion._

Her breath hitched.

 _My pants tighten up as I think about an empty classroom and being on my knees behind you, biting below the curve of your ass while you hiss at me to get on with it._

Hyne. What was he-

 _Fuck, Trepe. How do you expect a man to learn the intricacies of a four-person flanking technique within occupied enemy territory when you're scolding Dincht with that tone? All I can hear is you admonishing_ me _… punishing me for something small- anything you can come up with to make me grovel in front of you._

He had some nerve—and she couldn't stop reading it. She knew what she should do. She should stop reading his filth immediately and turn his ass in for illicit conduct towards an instructor. But…

 _And god, I know I would act up just to have that opportunity. I would burn this whole place down to the fucking foundation if it meant having your heels digging into my back with my face buried in your sweet cunt._

She gulped loudly and shifted in her seat miserably. Her whole body clenched.

 _Tie me down, baby. I want you to blindfold me and tease me until my cock is blood red and begging. I want you to whisper dirty nothings in my ear while I fight against the cool metal of handcuffs._

 _I want welts on my wrists the next day and big smile on my face. _

An image flashed in her mind of Seifer tied against a four-post wrought-iron bed, struggling against handcuffs. The sinews of his muscles were pulled taut. His sun-kissed skin was covered in cooled wax. The 'v' of his pelvis was drawing the focal point of the image lower.

She didn't even need to _imagine_ what Seifer would look like naked. They had been through enough training together for her to know every inch of him. She'd see him wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt while corralling monsters for the training center- the image of his abdomen causing her to drop the reins on the Grats she had rounded up. She's seen him lifting weights in the gym, smirking at himself in the mirror with each rep. And one time in a survival field test in Trabia (that she had since tried desperately to forget), she'd seen him strip down completely after swimming across a chilly river to retrieve a supply drop for their group. Hell- she'd been the one that had to help him warm back up with blankets and _rubbing._ Of course, it wasn't the kind of rubbing that she had wanted at the time, but she'd touched him, breathed hot air onto her hands, and helped him pull his body temperature back up.

Everything he was describing was flashing across her mind. She was living in the fantasies and basking in the memories. He was peeling his wet clothes off of his skin and tossing them to the ground while his teeth chattered. Instead of being in her warm office, she was in the frigid Trabian region, trying to rip her gaze off of his body and grab him a blanket. Her body was warm and pulsing; her panties were clinging to her. She licked her lips and flipped to the next page.

 _Dincht is done bickering about his own idiocy. He's accepted your instruction as law, and you've started patrolling around the classroom again. You gotta make sure that we lowly cadets are diligently doing our research. I wonder if I were to knock this pen off the desk if you'd lean down and get it. I could snake my hand up your skirt. _

Her hand twitched and slid it down her primly pressed oxford to her waistband.

No, Quistis.

But-

He's a student. Don't.

 _You would need to be quiet, Instructor._

She bit her lip. He's not _just a student,_ she thought, he's Seifer.

 _Lean against my desk and pretend you're explaining to me why I (like Dincht) am also a fuck-up. Just let them keep researching how to dodge all 12 tentacles of a Malboro while I slip my fingers into you._

Her resolve melted away. In one swift movement, she had hiked her skirt up high on her waist and had dipped her hand into her panties; she buried two finger in her to the knuckle- crying out softly.

Oh god, she needed this.

 _Let me finger fuck you while they slave away at theoretical monotony. Whisper to me that I misspelled Wendigo or some shit, and I'll pump three fingers into your sweet cunt. Sit in the seat beside me (because clearly I need more help with my paper than you had originally thought), and I'll rock my thumb against your clitoris until you're having to swallow every whimper so that you don't break their precious concentration._

She rocked her hips gradually. Always in control. Even fingering herself to a student's essay needed to be handled with care. Sure- she wanted to come, but not too fast. It needed to be at just the right time. Everything needed to be perfect.

 _Fuck. Five minutes until the bell rings, and I'm rock hard. _

She hummed and crooked her finger slightly rubbing against a deliciously soft spot within her.

So good.

 _Just let me show you, baby. Let me worship you. _

She wouldn't last much longer. Oh god.

 _Let me be whatever you need me to be:_

 _Slave_

 _Toy_

 _Prisoner_

 _And if you need me to take the lead, then I'll gladly flip up your skirt and fuck you as hard as I can against your desk. _

He had such large hands, and she'd seen him fight enough to know that his grip would leave bruises.

Oh fuck.

She whimpered breathlessly as she came undone. Her body pulsed abruptly as a deep moan spilled out from her lips. She rocked her hips harder against her fingers as she rode and rode her the crests of the waves as far as she could.

 _I want to taste you. I want my tongue buried inside of you. _

_I bet you're sweet._

She gasped, dragging air into her lungs as his paper came to an end.

She adjusted her glasses and guzzled a glass of water on her desk. She smoothed her shirt down and spread her skirt back down over her thighs.

The pit of her stomach swirled with guilt and satisfaction. She glanced at the desktop of her computer and pulled open her personal files. Maybe she would skip the run in the morning.

* * *

Seifer watched her with narrowed eyes as she walked between the rows of desks. The cut of her skirt lacked the normal playful swaying that he was used to. She commonly wore pleated skirts that whirled against her thighs every time she moved. He had opened windows in the back of the classroom before just hoping for a gust of wind—of course this was back when they were equals, before she'd been appointed as his instructor.

Today's skirt was a change, but a welcome one. The tight pencil skirt clung to her hips like a second skin.

"Well thought out paper, Cadet Leonhart. Excellent work." She praised. Squall yawned in response before staring blankly ahead of him.

Seifer was barely listening. Fuck. He was pretty sure he could have seen her ovaries in a skirt that tight. The raspberry color made her light skin look lovely. He wanted to see what she looked like flushed. He wanted to bite and lick and suck every inch of her.

He heard Zell whine. "I worked so hard on it, Instructor!"

"Extra credit assignments can be found on the common drive." She informed him.

He controlled his shallow breathing as she turned away from the rest of the students, resting her rear against the top of his desk. She dropped a term paper with a bright red B+ on the title page.

He scrutinized the perfectly printed paper in front of him. It was double-spaced with one-inch margins and a regulation font. Typed precisely in the center of the page was "Tactical Analysis in Timber By: Seifer Almasy".

"Cadet, I enjoyed your paper. I thought your ideas were original. However, you lost points for the far-fetched scenarios that you presented."

He looked at her dumbfounded. This wasn't his paper. What the hell had happened to the other one? He had worked hard on that. He was honestly expecting to get expelled when she read it, or at least given a few detentions. He had considered another scenario where a ruler was involved. Quistis would make him drop his pants and lean against her desk, and she would lecture him about proper procedure and the garden code with each _smack._

Fuck. Did she own paddle? Oh god. He felt dizzy.

"While I can see the merits of your analysis in a one-on-one _encounter."_ She paused and looked at him pointedly. "Your chances of success would be less likely if you were to be in the company of fellow cadets." She said silkily, running a fingertip across the wood grain of his desk. He licked his lips and narrowed his gaze at the red flush across her skin.

This was real. This wasn't a fantasy, she was really coming on to him.

She had liked his paper. He smiled widely at her as she coded her messages just for him.

She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned towards his ear. "And you misspelled Wendigo, Seifer." She breathed into his ear quietly.

"I'll try harder next time, _Instructor."_ He wrapped his hand around her thigh just above her knee, out of sight from the rest of the classroom. He let the pad of his thumb graze across the smooth skin of her inner thigh. He heard her breathing hitch in response.

"See me after class." She said quickly before marching back to the front of the classroom. She stuttered a little as she dove into her lesson.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE : It's been a while since I've wrote anything in the FF8 realm. I'm telling you, I gotta finish HWAA. It's killing me that it's unfinished. I thought this would be a nice little one-shot to keep the hope alive. I just need to remember where I was heading with it. The story was nearing a really heavy point and I couldn't force myself to sit down and write it. But it's coming guys, I swear. I haven't forgotten. By the way, I underlined Seifer's paper so that it would look it like it was on notebook paper, and it would make it easier to discern if you were in Quistis's POV or if you were reading the next section of his analysis. Sometimes it bugs me when authors use underlines, so I thought I would explain my formatting choice._


End file.
